em0tional detachment

I wish I’d continued with ballet as a child.

Or gymnastics. Or guitar, or piano, or story writing, or pretty much anything I ever began and failed. I stumble from failure to failure as one through rock pools. One day I’m going to have an awful fall…

funeralfairy:

you know what

i can’t live like this, there’s nothing left of me

haha

(Source: lunarwounds)

I’m being incredibly childish and ignoring my sister at the moment because she said it wasn’t fair that I get out of school for CAMHS appointments.

Because I could always not ask for help and just keep this terrifying mess of moods boiling inside me until I slash my wrists in the bath. It’s fine, I’m fine.

I don’t think anything hurts more than dreaming something infinitely better than reality.

It is Valentine’s Day tomorrow. No better time for my subconscious to kick me in the heart.

I just saw (hopefully) the only photo of me from today and it is so disgusting and awful that I am actually shaking, and the tears are imminent.

i don’t want to eat ever ever everagain.

All these scars are going to make it that much more difficult to find someone who will love me and every fucked-up, hideous thing I am.

Way to go, angel cake…

My grandparents are coming over on Monday, then I’m going via their house to my dad’s (they all live halfway across the country).

Last visit, my grandma was really suspicious of me when I told her I hadn’t lost weight, because it was true- I’d been weighing myself but making no attempts at diet or exercise, so I hadn’t changed at all. I wonder if she’ll say anything. When she does, I love and hate it all at once. I want my weight loss to be noticeable, I don’t want my losing weight to be.

My grandparents on both sides are the only people who tend to notice when I’ve lost weight; last year my grandfather told my mum I was looking healthy and happy, words which here mean “less fat” and “polite and good at acting”. I delighted in that.

I believe I’ve digressed quite thoroughly enough, now.

I don’t want any medication that causes weight gain. I don’t want CAMHS tomorrow. I don’t want to see the psychiatrist. I don’t want to talk about my suicidal thoughts and self-destructive tendencies. I don’t want to go over the tedium of my thought processes and anxiety issues, either.

I want to drink a variety of teas and eat a vast array of nothings.

This cold is a too-literal representation of the way my brain is dissolving and seeping away.

God, I’m sick.

I did 20 minutes of hula hooping and remembered my old calorie count username/password. I’ve a net total of about 900 calories today, but I’m craving cookies really badly now, which would be something like another 400 calories, and that is not what I want — especially before bed.

(ugh if i don’t eat them now they’ll only be there tomorrow last time last time)

My core muscles are feeling stronger; if I could only see them…

I’ve managed to stop smiling at my counsellor out of habit, and spoke to her calmly and sardonically. I lied to her again about quite how depressed I am, but what part of “social anxiety and fears of inadequacy” makes her think I’m about to say “I’ve been feeling pretty damn suicidal” while my mother (whom we established early on I’m terrified of upsetting) is in the room?

However, she did say that I might be seeing the Psychiatrist sometime soon.(“Not about medication! Well, maybe, that could be an option, we don’t know…”)

There was little time to do anything except fill her in on the 4 months since she dropped me, and talk about my worries over this speaking presentation I had to do. I had no interest in talking about the presentation, but she wouldn’t stop with her thoughts, feelings, actions bullshit and what does this make you think? and what % do you believe it will actually happen like you described?

I can’t wait until I’m old enough to manage my own mental health, and I can demonstrate how crazy I am to a professional without them telling my mother all about it.

I always find it absolutely bizarre when I realise/remember a person I’m talking to hasn’t suffered from depression, then I’m disturbed by my own surprise.

I suppose I’ve felt like this for so long that it seems to be the natural state. And even if there was a time in my life when I wasn’t at all depressed, the essence of the disease is to obliterate those times from my memory to best render me hopeless.

It runs through my family like tendons and has plagued most everyone I’ve ever held close.

It’s a fact, an inevitability.

Resistance is futile. Existence is futile.

I suddenly feel very, very dizzy.

Opposite of want.

I keep reading Amanda Palmer quotes about freedom and solidarity and Occupy and Rocky Horror and it’s making me so desperately sad.

I don’t know how to be happy and I don’t know how to be around people.

Punk Cabaret is freedom — I feel like I’ll be trapped forever.

om-nom-chompsky:

i cant seem to keep myself straight
i’ve forgotten which habits to hide
and which habits to fake
and i’m waiting
for someone to shake me and say

hey bitch
nice tits
you’re broke but then
you’re rich in love
you’re great in bed
you’ll see the world
you’ll knock them dead
and all the thick books that you’ve read
will count for nothing in the end

that thing’s happening where i actually diet and exercise and the only part of my body that doesn’t seem to get even bigger is my boobs which rapidly shrink into oblivion

WHY